


mastered in this heart of mine

by cynical_optimist



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M, So much domesticity it’s disgusting, Swearing, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 10:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynical_optimist/pseuds/cynical_optimist
Summary: Even cuts him off with a kiss to his lips, laughing, and Isak kisses him back, closing his eyes and losing himself, for just a moment, in the warmth and softness of this cold winter morning.-Domestic winter mornings and pancakes.





	mastered in this heart of mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [askynote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/askynote/gifts).



> For Vila, because you’re amazing and made some truly gorgeous graphics for the SKAM Secret Santa. Thank you so very much; I hope you enjoy the fluff.
> 
> Thanks as always to [Sarah](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com) for editing <3 Title from "Afterglow" by Ásgeir.

The mornings that Isak wakes without Even next to him would be the worst, if not for the fact that he always knows that his boyfriend is never very far away.

It’s ridiculously sappy, Isak knows; the boys can never find out. He can’t help it, though, can’t help the way that the assurance is almost better than waking up  _ with  _ Even. Maybe that says something about his issues or whatever else, but he doesn’t care. His favourite sight in the morning is Even’s peaceful face, still—his soft smile and the way his hair falls over his forehead. His favourite feeling is the warmth of Even’s arms around his waist. There’s something irreplaceable about the way he blinks open his eyes, panes of morning light casting his face into gorgeous detail, stares at Isak like there’s nothing in the world he would rather see.

There’s something more so about knowing that, even if he isn’t there, he’s just in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or work. That he’s coming back. That he hasn’t left.

Still, when Isak wakes on a morning that would be perfect for cuddles – cold, a Saturday, no responsibilities for the day—and Even isn’t there, he hardly considers his options before crawling out of bed to find him. He’s a man of simple tastes, and those tastes include curling into his boyfriend on winter mornings.

He doesn’t have to search long; Even is standing at the stove, flipping pancakes with such concentration that he doesn’t even turn when Isak walks in. For a moment, Isak stills in the doorframe, watching. Even has curled up his sleeves so they don’t catch fire or drag in the batter, but his hair is flat on his forehead, socked feet slipping just a little as he sways to the music playing quietly from his phone. Isak finds himself smiling as he pads over and stretches his arms around Even’s middle, burrowing his nose into the space between Even’s shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” Even says, far too bright for even a moment such as this. Isak hums back. For a few minutes, he moves with his boyfriend as he cooks, taking in warmth and soft sounds and the mouth-watering smell of breakfast as he wakes up properly. There’s probably coffee somewhere, but finding that would mean letting go, even partially, of Even. That can wait.

After a moment, Even stops moving, just stays standing at the counter, humming quietly along to his phone. Isak blinks, pulls back a little.

“Something wrong?” he asks the back of Even’s head.

“I finished breakfast,” Even replies, “but I didn’t want to disturb you.”

Isak grimaces, but his heart flutters a little in his chest. He pulls away completely, slides around until he’s facing Even.

“That,” he says, “is disgustingly domestic.”

The grin that spreads over Even’s face is almost heartstopping, and Isak would hate how gone he is for him if he could figure out how to stop loving it. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to that god damned smile, and it lingers, fingers reaching up to stroke his cheek, all of Isak and Even so close together it’s like they’re never meant to be apart.

“You have morning breath,” Even whispers in the space between them, and Isak shrugs.

“You love my morning breath.”

Even nods. “I love all of you,” he says, and Isak stares at him, at his wide, too-earnest eyes, and snorts, burying his face in his neck. Even snickers, tightening his arms around him.

“Asshole,” Isak mutters.

“I told you I love you,” Even replies, beginning to sway them to the music. “Why am  _ I  _ the asshole?”

“You just are,” he answers, and lets himself be swayed. “For one, you’re letting breakfast get cold.”

“I  _ made  _ breakfast. You’re distracting me with cuddles.”

Isak steps back, but his hands linger on Even’s waist. “I’ve never done such a thing in my life,” he retorts, as Even pulls him back in, kisses the side of his mouth. “Distracting you? Cuddles? What even  are cuddles? I have never cuddled anyone in my—”

Even cuts him off with a kiss to his lips, laughing, and Isak kisses him back, closing his eyes and losing himself, for just a moment, in the warmth and softness of this cold winter morning.

“Breakfast, though,” Even says. “I made breakfast for us, baby.”

“You’re amazing,” Isak replies, and it’s not even a little bit sarcastic.

Finally, regretfully, he pulls away to grab his and Even’s plates, carrying them to their table.  The pancakes do look cold, but they have plenty of syrup to smother them in.

“Should I make coffee?” he asks, and Even rests his head on his shoulder, mirroring their positions from earlier.

“Baby, you can’t even make  _ tea _ ,” he says mournfully, as though it’s the worst sentence he’s ever had to utter.

Isak sputters, turning and displacing Even. “That was  _ months ago _ ,” he protests, and Even grins a little through his sorrowful façade.

“I can’t believe,” he says, and Isak groans loudly, “that you are living with a  _ barista _ , and you tried to make tea with warm tap water for one of your best friends.”

“Fuck off,” he says, but allows Even to draw him into his arms again. “Can you and Sana stop commiserating over my failures?”

“But then how would we be friends?”

“Just make some coffee,” Isak says into Even’s shirt. “I’m too tired for this.”

He can feel the curve of Even’s mouth when he presses a kiss to the top of his forehead, and can’t help but smile back. He follows Even to the kitchen because he can, tucks himself into his side as he boils water and finds the instant coffee with a little grimace. Isak’s going to miss that particular look,  just a tiny bit, when he and their friends get him a proper coffee machine for Christmas.

Even makes him his coffee just how he likes it, like always, and the two of them sit together, toes and ankles and calves brushing under the table as their fingers touch over it. Even smiles at Isak, a little bit of sauce smeared on his cheek, and it’s disgusting and adorable and everything he wants for the rest of his life. It’s not lying curled together in bed, but they’re both there, and they’re happy, and Isak knows that Even intends on staying every bit as much as he does.

Isak loves Even, and Even loves him back, and that, more than anything, is something close to perfect.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think and come chat to me on tumblr, at [boxesfullofthoughts](https://boxesfullofthoughts.tumblr.com) <3


End file.
